This Tuesday, November 19, was observed as World Toilet Day. I decided to join in, believing absolutely in the importance of loos. But there wasn't much I could do to celebrate, except spend a little extra time in my favourite place reading all the newspaper reports about how even today a third of the world's population has no access to hygienic toilets. According to the United Nations, more than one billion people across the world just "go" in the open - a practice that contributes to countess deaths from preventable diseases.
This reminded me of Spiti, the high-altitude Himachali desert I had recently visited. Although the area is remote and undeveloped, almost everyone I saw or met there had access to clean toilets. It is the only district in Himachal Pradesh where every school and almost every Anganwadi has a toilet. But these aren't potties as we know them - completely waterless, the loos in Spiti convert human waste into manure even as they are being used, relying on simple technology, common-sense and, of course, Spiti's dry and oxygen-poor air.
Called dry composting toilets, these are double-storied structures often built away from the main house. The first floor has a hole in the middle and mud, straw and a shovel on the side. Look down the hole (as I did, rather compulsively) and all you'll see is a muddy mound. That's because after every use, one has to bung in a couple of shovels of mud and straw. These mix with the waste to reduce odour and enable quicker decomposition. This mix of waste, mud and straw, lies on the ground floor for six months or so, and its well-placed vents allow for full ventilation. In this time, the dry, thin air of Spiti renders down the waste, destroys harmful viruses like salmonella and converts the mixture into usable manure.
Spiti's toilets are a wonderful example of how traditional architecture and planning can be so much in sync with local conditions. Given that the valley is submerged under snow for more than half the year, and receives no rainfall at all in the remaining half, its water shortage is acute. These loos not only take care of human waste in an eco-friendly way, minimising sewage disposal - they turn waste into a useful resource.
All this was wonderful on paper, but I was not exactly brimming with enthusiasm when I had to use one for the first time during my homestay in Demul, one of the highest inhabited villages in the world. I'm as ready for experimentation and novelty as anyone, but when it comes to loo matters, I like what I, and indeed most of us, are used to - a conventional flush toilet. The dry loo in Demul smelled a little musky, but not bad at all when I went in. It was easy enough to use, and the omnipresent shovel was quite the handy touch. Later, as I stood outside, I was struck by the sheer practicality of its design. The vents ensured that there was no build-up of odour, and its waterless design ensured there were no rank and dirty puddles outside. It was way more hygienic than regular water-dependent rural toilets.
That is why I found it ironic when I heard that many Spitians aspire to replace these traditional loos with regular flush toilets. Coveting the WC's convenience and ease of use, they are, like the rest of us, choosing to ignore the pitfalls of creating so much sewage that will either contaminate groundwater, and their fragile ecology, or cost a bomb to treat. Like the rest of us, they too want their waste to disappear with the press of the flush button. If only life were that simple...
Disclaimer: These are personal views of the writer. They do not necessarily reflect the opinion of www.business-standard.com or the Business Standard newspaper
